


A Night In

by bruisespristine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Food, Food Kink, Food Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisespristine/pseuds/bruisespristine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root knows what Shaw likes (It's food. And sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night In

**Author's Note:**

> I edited this IN A03 and then when I upped it it gave me an error, so now this is not as edited. Sorry.

Shaw pushes her plate away from her with a grunt of satisfaction, the last mouthful of steak and garlic potatoes gets washed down with a gulp of her favourite scotch, and she sighs happily. “So, what’s for dessert?” 

Across the small table, Root raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of red wine. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

With a grumble, Shaw swirls the amber liquid around in her glass. “Obviously.”

“Do you trust me, Sameen?” Root leans forward, propping one elbow on the table and looking at Shaw with that infuriating, knowing expression.

“No.” The answer is immediate and automatic, but there’s a smile playing around Shaw’s lips.

Root stands up, letting the brocaded silk gown she’s been wearing since she opened the door to what Shaw can only assume is a house that belongs to some very rich people on holiday, drop to the ground. Shaw’s mouth goes dry, instantly. Root is now clad in only a very, very skimpy, very lacey thong, black of course, complemented by a black garter belt leading down to black suspenders and just over knee high stockings. 

Shaw’s glass makes a loud bang as it drops onto the table out of her hand, and she grabs it before it can spill, trying to pretend she just put it down loudly.

“Well, if you want dessert, you’re going to have to. Trust me.” Root trails a hand across her stomach, just above the garter, and Shaw’s knee bashes into the table for no reason at all. 

 

“Fine.” She growls. 

Root grins, looking annoyingly smug, and then pulls something from behind her back. It must have been tucked into her garter belt and Shaw wets her lips unconsciously as Root rounds the table, walking carefully towards her in her little black pumps. Root’s hands are soft on her hair, gentle as she picks it up and smooths it down Shaw’s back, and then firm as she places a blindfold over Shaw’s eyes. 

Shaw reaches up instinctively to pull it off, but Root grabs her hand, stilling it in the air. “Ah, ah, ah. Trust me, Sameen.” Her voice is all hot breath in Shaw’s ear, and she finishes with a little kiss against the side of Shaw’s neck that makes her suck in a lungful of air like she’s forgotten to breathe. She lets her hand drop. 

Root ties the blindfold with nimble fingers, not too tight and not too loose, and then steps away, presumably admiring her handywork. Shaw waits for a few minutes before her impatience gets the better of her and she shoves her chair away from the table a little, but doesn’t move to get up or move out of the chair. “What’s taking so long?”

“Patience, Shaw.” It sounds like Root is in the kitchen. Ah, dessert. Probably Root has to prepare something, and then she’s gonna spoon feed Shaw or something equally annoying and weird, and then they’re gonna fuck and everything will be lovely. Shaw relaxes, she can live with that. 

Some banging and clanking comes from the kitchen, and then Shaw feels rather than hears Root approaching. She always brushes it off as her military background, but the fact is she always seems to be extra, hyper aware of Root. 

She hears the whisper of fabric on wood as Root leans or sits on the table, feels the heat of Root’s skin passing close to hers, shivers with anticipation, and then Root leans forward. Shaw knows this because she gets a faceful of boobs and reaches up to slide her hands around the slender woman’s body, planning on pulling her into her lap. She wastes no time in planting kisses on the skin she can reach, but Root moves back, a barely noticeable hitch in her voice that makes Shaw smile smugly. 

“Put your hands behind your back.” 

Grumbling, Shaw obeys, waiting to feel the slide of silk around her wrists, or the click of metal as Root restrains her. Root likes tying her up, and Shaw has near permanent bracelets of blotchy purple to prove it.

The first few times they hooked up, John kept flicking his eyes to her wrists worriedly, like he wanted to talk to her about consent. Then he caught her rubbing her thumb across the marks with what presumably was an easily interpreted expression, pulled an ‘oh my god I do NOT want to know’ face and deliberately never looked at her bruising again, even when she turns up with it on her throat from neck restraints. But this time, nothing touches her sensitive skin, and she cocks her head in question. 

“No touching.” Root breathes in her ear, snakes her tongue out for a quick taste of Shaw’s soft lobe, and Shaw lets out an undignified squeak which she tries to turn into a growl. From the laugh in Root’s voice it doesn’t work 100%. “You have to control yourself. I know you can be a good girl. Now, I’m going to give you a treat, and you’re going to guess what it is. No hands, no questions.”

Shaw pouts a little, but nods, leaning toward where Root is hovering close to her face, trying to steal a kiss. Root avoids her deftly, and Shaw subsides, leaning against the wooden chair back, coiling her fingers together to try and resist the temptation to just grab Root, shove her down on the table and fuck her senseless. It’s always worth playing Root’s games, she’s discovered, so she marshalls herself and waits. 

It’s too long before Shaw gets any stimulation except for faint rustling sounds, plastic popping noises and the occasional waft of something sweet in the air. Then there are gentle hands toying with her collar. “We might wanna take this off. Things are gonna get messy.” 

Confident fingers slip down the placket of Shaw’s black shirt, unbuttoning it and shoving it out of the way, so it’s hooked over her shoulders and her muscular torso is bare to Root’s eyes, except for the practical black sports bra she favours. Root snaps the elastic strap, making her jump, and then a soft thumb dances over her lower lip. “Open wide.”

Root weaves her hand into Shaw’s hair and guides her head forwards, Shaw can smell Root and something sweet that makes her mouth water. Then there’s warm skin brushing against her lips and she pokes out her tongue, tentatively taking a swipe. Root’s neck, she’s pretty sure, flavoured with something sugary and candy like. It’s delicious, strawberry maybe, and she shifts forward a little for better access, cleaning the skin determined to get every last drop and in the process sucking a hickey onto the soft skin of Root’s throat. 

Root gasps and shivers a little, Shaw feels her pulse thrumming under her tongue, and then too soon Root pulls back with a quiet groan. 

“Mmm, you seemed to like that. What was it? You don’t get your next treat until you identify the first one.”

Shaw curses silently, she’d been so distracted by the yumminess and also Root, that she’d forgotten to analyse the taste closely. She smacks her lips, chasing the last of the flavour around her mouth and then tentatively suggests, “Strawberry syrup?”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.” Root snickers, and then Shaw is presented with something soft and cool smudged onto her lower lip. “Here you go, sweetie.” 

Shaw opens her mouth, and Roots pushes her laden fingers inside. It’s almost unbearably erotic, and both of the women let out a small noise under their breath. Shaw cleans Root’s fingers with her tongue and then pulls back, giving the sensitive tip a last lick and grinning. “Easy. Whip cream.” She states confidently, and then is surprised to find herself being thoroughly kissed. 

Root’s mouth is wet and hot, and flavoured with Shaw’s whisky, and Shaw sucks it eagerly off her tongue, squeezing her hands together behind the chair to resist from grabbing Root. She thinks she’s pressing bruises into her own wrists which is a new and unusual kind of erotic pain, and she moans in displeasure when Root pulls back, slightly breathless. She doesn’t wait for the question. “Macallan Gold. Yum.” 

“Too easy?” Root rustles something, and then Shaw feels her place one foot on each side of Shaw’s ass, using the edge of her chair as a foot rest so Shaw is bracketed by her legs. She licks her lip in anticipation, and then Root’s hand is back in her hair, bending her down and guiding her to... oh. Root’s thigh is covered in something thick and sticky. 

Shaw huffs in annoyance at being denied the taste of Root herself, but obediently licks and sucks the chocolate syrup away from Root’s thigh. When she sits back, her face is sticky and her nipples are hard. 

Root takes a moment to run her hands over Shaw’s breasts, making a little grunt of pleasure, and then Shaw hears the sound of a lid popping. Not being able to see is heightening all of Shaw’s other senses. and her skin feels pink and tingly waiting for the next touch. 

This time, her head is pushed downward and she’s sure, sure that this is the one that she’s been waiting for, that this time she’ll taste Root all over her tongue, bury her face in her pussy and get her real treat, but something surprisingly cold hits her nose and she jumps, sticking her tongue out to taste it. 

Root’s skin shivers under her ministrations and she delicately laps up the drips of vanilla icecream from Root’s soft lower stomach, hearing her breathing skip. She can feel Root’s pubic hair tickling her chin just lightly and the temptation to move down is almost overwhelming, but she takes a deep breath and sits back, waiting patiently for her next instruction. 

There’s another rustle or two from the table, and then Root breathes out ‘Oh, fuck it,” and abruptly Shaw’s face is introduced to Root’s cunt so fast that she bangs her nose and they both flinch, but Root’s hands hold her in place and Shaw dives in, licking the salty, musky taste that is so explicitly Root from her entrance.

Root makes little huffing noises and Shaw feels her shifting back on the table, lying down and wrapping her legs around Shaw’s torso. Shaw doesn’t dare move her hands in case Root makes her stop, even though she thinks that probably the desperate movement of Root’s hips implies that she’s too far gone to care. 

It’s uncomfortable at this angle, sticky, there’s syrup all over her face and Shaw never wants it to stop. Root wraps her hands into Shaw’s hair, tugging and grabbing, sending sparks of pain that shimmer down her spine to lodge thoroughly in her groin. She can feel herself soaking her panties as she explores Root’s pussy with her mouth, running her tongue from top to bottom, stopping to plant wet kisses on her clit and then back down to push inside her. 

She wants Root to let her use her hands, but she’s up for the challenge if she’s not allowed, and she breathes out in long pants designed to drag cold and hot air over Root’s sensitive centre and drive her even wilder. 

Suddenly Root’s fingers push down in front of her mouth, smearing half melted icecream all over her clit and making her hips stutter and jump. Shaw groans, sucking the cold sweetness clear and Root just reloads, clearly enjoying the temperature contrasts. Shaw is absently wondering whether she should offer to fuck Root with a popsicle when Root grabs her shoulder and tugs, in an unmistakable demand. 

Shaw’s hands are numb and tingly after being knotted together at such an awkward angle for so long, but she wastes no time in using her thumbs to spread Root apart so she can get deeper, more. Root judders and shimmies on the table, and almost constant litany of words tumbling out of her mouth, and Shaw wants to look at her more than anything except maybe be inside her, so she drags the blindfold off with one hand and shoves three fingers in her mouth without stopping her tongue’s exploration. 

Root whines, Shaw can see she has one forearm in her mouth, clearly biting down on the flesh to stop herself screaming. Her body is gleaming in sticky, wet patches and the table is littered with various bottles and jars.

Shaw watches carefully as she drives her now spit-slick fingers into Root, watches her hips drive up and her stomach muscles tense and her back arch, and then she sucks Root’s clit into her mouth and trails her other fingers down to toy with her perineum, dancing damp fingertips over the incredibly sensitive skin. 

She loves watching Root come, it’s like she has a battle with herself, muscles and tendons standing proud and she always opens her eyes, just as the last moment before she tumbles over, her pupils contracting as they meet Shaw’s and the first time that happened it was unbearably intimate but now Shaw loves it, waits for it, and Root’s eyes lock onto hers like targeted missiles. 

Root knocks at least a half dozen things off the table with her flailing arm, finally letting out the scream that’s been building in her chest for the last little while, jerking and clenching and tightening around Shaw’s fingers so much that Shaw can hardly move, just wait for her to relax a little before she can stroke her gently, bring her down. 

She kisses lightly, wide, open mouthed kisses that Root likes, that make her skip in little aftershocks, and then just breathes right onto her fluttering entrance until she’s finally done, lying so still that she might have passed out, but when Shaw looks up at her she’s gazing at her with a contented expression. 

Shaw licks her lips, pressing a last kiss to Root’s sensitive clit and making her jump, then sitting up with a grin and rolling her shoulders. 

“Thanks for cooking.” 

Root’s reply is half a gasp, and her fingers weave into Shaw’s hair to pet the nape of her neck with soft scratches. “My pleasure.”


End file.
